Rotten in the inside
by HannaDoo
Summary: COMPLETE! Jo and Sam are dealing with the aftermath of 2x14: Born under a bad sign. Angst. Rated M for a reason. DeanJo mentioned, but basically SamJo. Easier to write it than to give you a decent summary. Please, R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Supernatural _or its characters (sighs). I'm a nice girl, don't sue me!**

**This is not the kind of thing I usually write. It just came to my mind after watching 2x14 _Born under a bad sign_. So I wrote it. Hope at least someone likes it. **

* * *

In the beginning, it was her regular wet dream_. Back in_ _Black_ sounding in the background. A very naked Dean Winchester moving on top of her. Incoherent moans. Breathing becoming an issue. His voice trembling as he babbled her name on his way to ecstasy. Then (and that was different from her usual _Deandream_), he started a trail of kisses from her belly button downwards. She closed her eyes in expectation and arched her neck at the same time, never wanting it to finish. When she opened her eyes to enjoy the sight of what he was doing to her, he noticed it and raised his head to smile. That wasn't Dean's sexy smile. Basically, because that was not Dean. She tried to fight it. She tried to wake up before anything else happened because she knew she was dreaming. But she couldn't stop it. Sam Winchester was then pinning her to the bed in that cheap motel room. Making her gasp when he entered her without warning, hurting her like hell. She turned her head to the side because she didn't want that thing to see there were tears of pain in her eyes.

Pain and frustration. Because while the possessed Sam had kept her, something had clicked inside Jo. She had never told anyone the wrath invading her while she was tied to that chair had been accompanied by waves of arousal. But she did not forget it. It came to haunt her every single night.

The Sam in her dream was pounding hard inside of her, and Jo soon found herself raising her hips to meet his thrusts. Releasing all her hate in each of them and finding it strangely satisfactory. When they were finished, he got off her without a word, just a look from those eyes which were not completely yellow, but were not a hundred percent Sam's either. The scent of her own blood mixed with their juices brought a lump of anguish to her throat. With her first tears of desperation, she woke up.

A trembling hand traveled to her tights only to find the wetness between them and in her sheets. She ran to the bathroom. After throwing up, she looked at her image in the mirror. Destroyed by the haggard aspect she offered, she could only see how much more rotten she was in the inside. Every time she thought about that part of her that had been awoken with the kidnapping, she made herself feel sick. She took some water in her still shaking hands and splashed her face with it. She had always had this childish belief that when the baddies got their just deserts, their damage was somehow neutralized. But now, the yellow-eyed demon had gone to hell and Sam could not be blamed because it hadn't been him attacking her. And, as far as she knew, he probably didn't even remember that much during his possession. She was not stupid; she knew it had not been his fault. But it was his body that she saw fucking her once and again every night. His teeth and the strong grip of his hands bruising her skin .His face was what she saw as she came in her dreams. Sam Winchester was almost certainly by that time happily hunting with his brother, enjoying his favorite beer everyday, not even thinking anymore about that episode of their lives. Then, it was her. She was screwed. More than she thought she could ever be.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn't slept properly in two weeks. Not only he had killed a hunter, but also kidnapped Jo. Ok, technically it had not been him. But he could remember mostly everything. He could remember more than he would ever admit before anyone. Specially about Jo. Every time he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep, he could feel again her sweat-covered skin, smell the shampoo in her hair and hear her begging. He was so sick of himself it was difficult to keep in his stomach the very little food he was eating lately. Even his brother, not most sensitive person around, kept telling him it wasn't his fault. Sam repeated it to himself like a mantra. It wasn't his fault that the demon had possessed him. It wasn't his fault that it had chosen Jo. It wasn't his fault that, when he did fall asleep, he always dreamed of her saying yes to him in that bar. She would whimper and moan, they would fuck hard and fast against the counter, and she'd scream his name. His. Not Dean's. His.

Anyway, it was not his fault because he couldn't control dreams. That was what he kept saying to himself. And it sometimes worked. All those things, he couldn't blame himself for them. Then, he remembered how almost everyday he would get up with the biggest hard-on ever and then jerk off in the shower like a horny teenager. He had tried, he honestly had, thinking of a nameless hot brunette while he was doing it. But brown soon turned into blond, her face always appeared in his mind and, in the end, he gave up pretending. Shame always came immediately after release. Everyday he promised himself it was the last time. But the Winchester boys had never been big at promises. And that was actually what kept making his stomach turn.

He wondered how freaked out Jo could be if she ever knew about it. She would be terrified of him for life and she'd probably try to kill him. 'Cos the girl was not exactly a damsel in distress. And Ellen. She would most likely shoot him before he dared ever again putting a foot on the Roadhouse. Then, it was Dean. He was his brother, he had always put him before everything. But what if he discovered it had been a mistake? What if the yellow eyed demon and his father were right? What if Dean saw Sam was already not fully himself? Because the kind of things he was thinking and dreaming about... that was as far from his normal self as he could imagine. He had always been the kind of guy to get aroused by pleasuring girls, definitely not into the whole quick-fuck-against-a-wall thing. And it might have been rubbish, but it somehow felt like the kidnapping had awoken something inside Sam that did not fully belong to him.

He shuddered. Dean was not coming back to the motel room that night. And he knew where she was working. He would go and say sorry. She would probably answer it was not his fault. And then he'd say sorry again, that time for the sins he was not ready to confess and she should never listen. He would go back to his bed and pretend it had been enough. And sleep a whole night. Probably just one, 'cos the following day he would be sick of himself again. But he needed one night. Just one night of peace.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stepped on the gas.

_(I can't believe Sam's such an idiot,)_ he thought, _(I mean, he's supposed to be the intelligent one here. And there he is: sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet god-knows-who, trying to get me out of the deal. He's gonna get us both killed. Soon.)_

It was not that difficult to follow him. Dean was supposed to be spending the night out again. But his plans changed and when he arrived to an empty motel room, it was as easy as pie to track Sam down.

_(Teach a boy everything you know about hunting, and then he won't even bother to cover his own trail. I seriously need to have a conversation with him. Apart from the obvious one, I mean.)_

Sam's rented car was parked in front of an otherwise empty, seedy bar. (Demon or human inside it), Dean wondered, and he made sure he had with him the weapons for every possible attack. He was gonna kill that thing. And afterwards, he was gonna kill his younger brother. 'Cos he was not planning on spending his last months on Earth being his babysitter. He was ready. He was not afraid of dying. He just wanted Sam to let him enjoy the time he had left. To enjoy that time together instead of chasing a happily-ever-after ending that was just not going to happen.

He entered the bar, ready to fight whatever evil son of a bitch who was trying to trick Sam on thinking there was a way out. Once he was inside, he stood motionless, trying to adjust his sight to the darkness and to study his surroundings. Soon enough, he heard a groan he recognized as his brother's. It came from the bar. He walked silently till he could have a decent sight. When he did, it took him some effort not to laugh his ass off.

_(That's my boy!),_ Dean thought, staring at an image he would have never thought he was going to see. Sam's groans fell from his mouth as he was thrusting into some chick, namely, the waitress, against the counter. The volume of her incoherent moans was not what you'd call low, either, if you asked Dean. _("Saving people, hunting things, making girls scream." Mmm, we should change our family motto. Actually, we should put it under our names in cards. If we ever have some with our real names, anyway.)_

Dean felt stupid. Sammy had behaved in a strange way lately. But, hey!, you can't exactly expect someone who has just come from the dead and discovered his brother is dying in twelve months to have a normal behavior. Sam deserved some good time of his own. And Dean strongly believed getting laid always improved the starting situation, no matter how bad it was. He made sure he was not leaving any track of his presence there (that would've been embarrassing... and not exactly easy to explain to Sam's little friend) before leaving. When he was just about to do it, the broken sound of her voice brought something familiar to Dean.

"_Oh, oh, God, oh, SAMMY__, c'mon!"_

Dean felt the blood in his veins freeze as he recognized the sound he'd just heard.

_(Schoolgirl crushes: one day she drools over you, the following, she's moved on to Brad Pitt and, before you can blink, she's fucking your bro),_ he let out a smirk.

"_It's Sam",_ he roared as he trusted hard into her once final time.

It surprised Dean how harsh and pained he sounded. Their bodies fell limp against the counter before they recovered their composture and Sam spoke softly.

"_Thank you."_

_(Oh, you DORK!)_ Dean slapped his forehead _(Thank you? Thank you? You had her panting, screaming your name for more and all you can say afterwards is "thank you", as if you had borrowed her car. I mean, seriously, you should tattoo the word "NERD" on your face or something, so girls would know beforehand you'd go all "thank you" after it. For fuck's sake... Thank you?)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Almost done with the story! There's just one more chappie left. Reviews would be REALLY welcome**

* * *

Sam and Jo were drinking beer, sitting in two stools much closer to Dean than he wished they were. Not touching. Not talking. Not even daring looking at each other anymore. Dean silently cursed himself for following Sam that night.

_Awesome! Now I'm stuck with these two till they decide it's time to leave or to have another round at the storeroom.)_ Dean was a resourceful man, but he sure as hell was not suicidal. Trying to leave unnoticed a silent place with two hunters in it was unrealistic. He could trust Sam, unless he took him for a shapeshifter, but Jo... she had her mom to thank for her whole "first shoot, then ask" attitude. And even if they knew it was HIM, situation would be, at best, weird.

In the bar, Jo cleared her throat to speak, still not looking Sam in the eye.

"_So what's wrong with Dean?"_

"_Would you mind NOT talking about my brother immediately after we have sex?"_ Sam snapped back, "_it's sort of unflattering, you know?"_

Dean was still trying to understand what the fuck was wrong with Sam when Jo practically jumped from the stool and dropped her bottle on the counter. She started poking his chest with her finger.

"_Listen, Winchester:__ you don't get to do this to me",_ she raised her face to look him in the eye and, even if she was much shorter than him, Dean somehow felt she was making Sammy feel smaller. _"I haven't heard from you in a month. It this how it's going to work? You fuck me whenever you want, wherever you want, as many times as you want and still have the right to be mad at me",_ she shot, as he lowered his head in defeat. She slapped him hard in the chest, teary eyed. _"I've been dreaming of it every night. Going through it every.fucking.night since then. I can't sleep more than two hours on a row. You hear? And I know you're going through the same, and you're the only one who can help, and you don't. You DON'T and I don't know why. And I'm just asking you..."_ hysteria was gradually mixing with her words "_why... I'm just asking why, what's wrong with you... What's wrong with him 'cos only for him you'd make us both go through this hell."_

Sam just whispered _"sorry"_ once, and again, and again till she was sitting in her stool, looking calmer. His hand was slowly caressing her tight.

"_Do you ever think this could be part of the demon's plan?"_

"_Of course. Wild sex is one of the signs of the apocalypse. Everybody knows,"_ she teased.

"_I'm serious. I mean, it's not like I've always been like this."_

"_It's a pity Sam, 'cos when I was a kid, I had this dream that a knight in a shining armour would come and fuck me against a counter. You're my childhood wish come true."_

He couldn't stop a tired smile and a squeeze in her tight.

"_You used the Colt. You killed him and you know it. What's wrong NOW, Sam?"_

His eyes were lost far away from her. He wouldn't say a word.

"_Ok, you're not telling me",_ Jo continued as she got up and positioned herself in front of his stool, in between his long legs. She softly took his face in her hands so he would look her in the eye_. "Just let me do something for you. Let me make it better, Sam",_ she said while she fumbled with the zipper in his jeans. _"Let me do for you what you do for me."_

Sam took her small hand out of his pants.

_(And his epitaph will say: Sam Winchester. First and probably only__ dude ever to say no to a blowjob.)_

"_You don't have to make it up to me, remember?"._ It was barely a whisper.

Big brown eyes met sad hazel ones.

"_We are together in this, remember? Tell me what it is that you want. Use me, Sam",_ her fingers drew unknown forms under his shirt. _"Tell me what you need."_

He opened his mouth as if that single movement hurt.

"_Can we... can we sleep together tonight?",_ he finally let out.

Jo raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

"_I'm not sure that's the most appropriate term to refer to what we do, but..."_

"_Dean's met this girl he hadn't seen in years and he's spending the night out. Can we, erm, can we pretend this is... normal?__"_

"_Normal, huh?"_

"_Like in going to your place, having a shower together, doing it on the mattress with our hair still wet, watching TV a little bit, sleeping together a little bit... You know, normal."_

Dean could see how Jo's body noticeably tensed up as his brother spoke.

_(Dude, looks like you're not gonna like the answer.)_

"_Do you want me to pretend I'm Jess?",_ she inquired, getting away from his touch.

"_No... NO!",_ he shook his head. _"I'd just like to pretend there's something normal in our lives. Only for tonight,"_ pleading eyes asked her.

_(Bitch! H__e's using his 'I'm so cute' gaze. It used to get him all the cookies.)_

She took a deep breath and got closer to him again.

"_I can do it for you",_ she replied, nervously combing her hair with her fingers. _"I_ _told you anything you needed was fine."_

_(And once again, Sammy gets the double__ chocolate chip cookie.)_

She took his hand and they started walking out of the bar. None of them looked remotely happy or excited about it. There was something bothering Dean about the whole thing, but he could not put the finger on it. Maybe he had enjoyed being Jo's hero a bit too much. Maybe it had to do with actually SEEING the way Sam taking what was going to happen in some months. Maybe he noticed they haven't kissed once and for some reason, that made it all look so fucking sad.


	5. Chapter 5

He was serious about the shower thingy. When we got to my room, I basically jumped on him. He let out a smirk.

"_Shhh... Don't rush,"_ he said as his fingers slowly traced a path from my neck to my temple.

_(Please, don't kiss me, don't kiss me, don't kiss me.)_

I felt so freaking embarrassed at the idea of seeing each other completely naked I was petrified. He took my hand, leading our way to the bathroom. It was a shabby little hole, hardly romantic movie material. I took off my clothes lazily, but there were soon two piles on the floor. I finally dared actually looking at him. And, God, he was something. I'm not stupid, even if they were normally quick fucks, clothes still on, I could feel he had a nice body under all those layers. But seeing him was a whole different thing. That left 'nice' behind.

Sam started touching me under the shower spray and it felt so different to all the times before.

* * *

He had somehow found me. I told him to leave, but he waited till I finished my turn, taking small sips of his beer in a dark corner. He apologized. I wanted to say everything was OK. Except it wasn't. I let everything out. He did the same. We fought. We fucked. I was never sure there was even a transition from one to the other. That night, I slept soundly. He did, too. For a while, not more than three or four days. When we grew restless, we would contact to try and find a way to meet. We fucked each other silly, making the cycle begin again. We never kissed. We never talked about it. Once I got fired from a bar in Indiana because they caught us going at it in the storeroom. In the middle of my shift. Another time, he broke something in the Impala 'cos I couldn't reach them before they left and he couldn't wait to get into my pants.

* * *

We stepped out of the shower. He took a towel and started drying my hair a little, while I stood there, not knowing what to do. He lowered his lips to my ear and whispered: 

" _I promise you're gonna like this. Just relax. C'mere."_

I buried my nose in his chest and took a breath. He shivered. I brushed my lips against the skin in front of me. It was easier then, when I didn't have to look at him. It was much easier in bars, when I didn't have time to think he was Sam Winchester. Brother to Dean Winchester. Son to John Winchester. A hunter. Easier when we could pretend we were just two horny kids needing to get laid as soon as possible. When we could drink a beer afterwards and act as if nothing had happened.

_("Why couldn't you leave it like that, Sammy?")_

His grip on my waist tightened the moment I laid my lips on his chest. He searched them. Traced them with his thumb and finally kissed me. I didn't put any resistance when he opened my lips with his tongue. He still tasted like me, which was at the same time the hell of a turn on and bloody embarrasing. We stumbled back to the room and I enjoyed one of the most impressive sessions of sex ever. I kept wondering it that was the way Sam did it when he was in love. If that was the way he did it with his girlfriend. If he also told her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted to be with her, to be inside of her. If he fell asleep with his head in her chest, looking much more vulnerable than he would ever let anyone else see. And looking at him, for the first time I felt I was saving him, even if only for one night. Whatever was haunting Sam Winchester, it was going to wait, at least, till dawn.

**THE END**


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